Marathon of Juvenile Delusions

For English class, my teacher asked us to write a prose poem in which we reevaluated the commencement of our high school experience.

This is mine:

Marathon of Juvenile Delusions

Standing by the starting line

You have but ten and four

Mind jaded, thoughts divine

With a predetermined score

Then it goes with a fired shot

You let your body lead

And though you wait, when it does not

You feel a sinking creed

At thirteen point one, through gasps of air

Strained limbs fail and give

So you retire like the idle hare

Loose faith and will to live

But from your seat, you watch them try

Through clenched jaws and muscles; pain

Those who don’t, have reached their high

Your cheeks burn too, for shame

Under such light, your endeavor seems weak

Defeat from lack of traction?

Deciding against, you change or tweak

A better course of action

Again you find you’re at that line

You have near ten and eight

But now the hurdle comes from time

And you fear you are too late

Steadied breath, and rhythm made

You startle at your pace

Passing whom you once admired

You become. Won. Still race,

For when the ribbon greets your chest

It’s then you apprehend

To be if not, then close, the best

You run, but meet no end.

The Horse and The Boy

Hi. Sorry it has been a while since I last wrote, it has been one of those weeks.

Anyway, I was looking through some old files of mine for no particular reason, when I came across a short piece I had written in middle school. For some reason the piece has resonated with me for the past few days, even though as far as I can tell there was no intentional "deeper meaning".

You be the judge:

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Long ago there lived a horse and boy. Together they wandered life aimlessly, in no certain direction the horse led the boy, and to no certain destination did the boy give the horse. After walking a long day, the two would stop and sleep, only the next morning to continue walking.

Now the boy never rode the horse, because he considered them equals. He swore he would never ride the horse in his lifetime, unless he was willing to have the horse ride him.

And the horse never left the boy, because he considered them equals. He swore he would always keep at a steady pace so the boy could keep up, unless the boy felt like a run.

One day, after the two companions had walked a few miles, they stopped at a fork in the road.

“Why do we do this?” The boy asked his companion.

The horse looked at him curiously.

“Why do we do this?” The horse asked his companion.

The boy looked at him curiously.

The horse looked at one path, the boy looked to the other.

One path had footsteps, and a clear scent of life, that wafted through it.

The other path was unclear, and seemingly dangerous.

Nodding at the path that many others had treaded on, the horse started to make his way down it.

Pointing to the less traveled path that nobody had set foot on, the boy started to make his way down it.

Never looking back to see where their friend was, the two comrades made their way down their own path without so much as a goodbye.

Only years later, when the horse was fully-grown, and the boy a man, did the two realize they were missing each other.


The boy traveled back down his less-traveled path.

The horse traveled back down his.

And wordlessly, the two walked together at the same pace, side by side.

Mes journées à thème

Maybe it's just me, but it seems as though every day of our lives is connected through a theme.

When I say "theme" I mean it in a very broad sense:

A  number you keep seeing.

A repeating word.

A sign.

A philosophy.

A moral.

Almost all my days seem to have underlying themes lately, and it is both distracting and intriguing. For example, for the past two days the theme has been existentialism. For those who are not familiar with the concept, it is a philosophical term to describe one who is in a disoriented state of confusion and is questioning both the boundaries of human institutions and the meaning that their existence serves.

The first time the idea existentialism was aroused in my mind was the evening of October 12th. After reading a Albert Camu's novel, The Plague, I engaged in a heated debate with my English teacher and two other conflicted students. All of us had different interpretations of the book and clashing beliefs on the meaning of life.

The second day, October 13th, yet another girl confronted me about her dissatisfaction with her purpose in the world. Sadly, I could not appease her.

Similar to the existential philosophy, I find myself questioning the purpose behind the themes I keep encountering; am I meant to uncover them, or by identifying their existence am I annihilating their value?

In any case, these new daily themes have sure been a thought-provoking discovery.

Dreams

The other day my health teacher briefly discussed the mechanical and psychological process that our bodies and minds go through as we dream.

At least psychologically, dreams tend to be one of those subjective and controversial topics, and often they are hard to discuss without interpretative discord.

Personally, I define dreams as being our subconscious mind's attempt to communicate significant thoughts to our conscious mind. I also believe that it is difficult, though maybe not impossible, to dream about something that our conscious mind has not already experienced.

Below is a dream I had recently and an introspective analysis I conducted on it afterwards:

Dream-9/29/11

I am at school.

There is a loud drilling sound and I am convinced that it is coming from a student outside in the hallway. The drilling noise seems to be the student crying, but his cries do not sound normal, not even human. Soon the student enters my classroom, yet he seems to have no recollection of the previous noises, in fact he seems curious as to why I am watching him so closely.

Logical Dream Explanation

The student is a boy I have seen at school, but have never met. The other day I pointed him out to a friend when mentioning he was in my gym class. The crying is most likely my unconscious mind associating my five-year-old brother’s tantrum (earlier that night) with the fact that I commented that my brother’s cries did not sound like his usual cries: that his cries sounded like a different kid’s. Lastly, the drilling noise I heard and automatically linked with the student, was in reality the construction work beginning across the street from my bedroom window at 9:00 that morning. 

I am constantly amazed by the human unconscious. 

Mr. Harper Makes My Day

Hey guys!

I just thought that this song was worth sharing.

Yes, that's all.

On My Train Ride Home...

The other day I was taking the subway home, and I couldn't help but notice a couple seated directly in front of me. From the looks of it they were homeless, but what really caught my attention was the fact that I was on the train for at least half an hour, and I swear there was not a minute that went by without them holding hands.

Maybe because I was in a reflective mood or maybe just because I am a little weird, I decided to write a short piece inspired by the lovers before I got off at my stop.

Here it is:
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They held hands. Palm against palm, they rode against current and back again, through an underground maze. The space around them slowly filled itself, as it often did at six, and each breath seemed to cling to the next.

Soon the air became an indistinguishable mass of bodies, warmth, and exhaustion.

To some it felt like an oven, to others, a spa, but to them it felt like home.

Waiting patiently until each weary soul had descended, they fell asleep: still holding hands.

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I don't know what it was about the pair of them, but I was truly moved by the affection they shared for each other.

Have a good day.

Howdy!

Well it's about time I got a blog. 

For someone who talks as much as me and has an opinion on just about everything--is anyone really surprised? And for those of you who don't know me, if you did then you wouldn't be. (If that makes any sense.) 

Some of you may have come here searching for my perspective, others maybe to seek guidance, or maybe you are lost and are merely trying to find the minimize button for this window (if that is the case, you can find it on the upper right hand side of the screen). 

Whatever the case may be, I think it is wise to clarify right here and right now, that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. 

So, when you are reading something I have written or watching something I have posted and feel lost, confused, or frightened, relax: you are most likely not alone.

With this I shall leave you because I am tired and quite frankly have nothing interesting left to say.

Ta ta!